


Safe

by idareu2bme



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: CUDDLES ARE MY KINK, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Mick Rory is a Softie, Mild Angst, Past Abuse, Soft Boys, hah except he is, leonard snart is not the sentimental type
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 08:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18140105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idareu2bme/pseuds/idareu2bme
Summary: Post-heist snuggles. It was a rough heist. Len's feeling sentimental.





	Safe

**Author's Note:**

> unbetaed

All his life, the concept of safety was an abstract thing. Even as a small child, Leonard Snart had never known the meaning of ‘safe’. His home had always been one that housed guns and criminals leaving little room for  _ safe _ . Sure, he could break into a  _ safe _ . He would always take a beating to keep his sister  _ safe _ . As he got older, he had multiple  _ safe _ houses to run to after a job --some far out of town should the job go sour. But the idea of  _ feeling safe _ , that was a notion completely foreign to Len. 

 

Ironic then that his first taste of safety should be found in another criminal's arms. And in the sort of relationship that would surely have gotten him killed were he younger and still living under the thumb of his late, homophobic father -- _ may he burn in hell _ . 

 

Mick Rory was a thief, a murderer, and a psychopathic arsonist; at least that’s what the newscasters said. 

 

To Len, Mick was a partner, a fall back, and a co-conspirator come friend. Over the years, they’d come to know more about each other and gotten closer to one another than either had ever planned. There was no one,  _ no one _ , on this earth, or any other, who knew more about Leonard Snart than Mick Rory. There was no one who Len would ever let as close.

 

Mick knew Len’s rap sheet like a best hits album, especially since he was there for most of it. Mick was the one Len grinned and laughed with when the adrenaline of the game rushed in. Mick was the one Len drew up plans for heists with, the one who offered solutions without intent. Mick knew how Len thought and could silently communicate with him from across a room with just a look. Mick knew what made Len tick and he also knew Len’s past. He knew which childhood traumas were connected to which adulthood quirks. Mick knew Len’s weaknesses, knew Len’s struggles, knew Len’s unspoken fears. Mick had talked Len down from many of his darkest moments and it was Mick who had held Len through his broken ones. He’d seen him at his most fragile, yet Mick still respected and even deferred to Len.   

 

It was always Mick. 

 

So it was simple, even without prior experience with the concept, for Len to find safety in Mick. And Len could admit, at least to himself, that it was nice to be able to let his guard down sometimes and just relax in private seclusion with another. The intimacy of it wasn’t as distasteful as Len might once have expected… as long as it was with Mick. 

 

“You’re thinking too loud,” grumbled Mick softly.

 

Len blinked up at the ceiling letting a half-smile quirk one side of his mouth. Mick pressed a gentle finger to the centre of Len’s forehead a second later and rubbed a little circle against his skin. Len went cross-eyed looking up at it.

 

“Stop using this,” murmured Mick before withdrawing his finger to instead wrap both arms around Len’s torso and pull him back into his chest. “I’m trying to get my cuddle on.”

 

"Then what  _ should _ I be using?" purred Len, luxuriating in the heat of Mick's body engulfing him despite his usual taste for the cold.

 

"Mhm," murmured Mick with amusement. "There'll be time for that later when we're both a little less banged up."

 

Len leaned his head back against Mick's shoulder and pressed his hands against his forearms where they were crossed both possessively and protectively over Len's chest. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried again to push the what-if's from his mind.

What if he hadn't come around the corner when he had? What if he'd been a second slower? What if he'd missed his target? What if the shooter had been a better shot? What if he hadn't been able to drag Mick to the nearby car? What if they hadn't escaped? What if he'd lost the only person who really mattered to him, the only person who made him feel safe? 

 

Plans often went askew during jobs, especially during the complicated ones. But never had one gone so completely, utterly, and swiftly south as the one that night. There had been a few moments where Len had wondered if this was it. He knew Mick, like him, had no intention of stopping and planned to go out in a rain of bullets... or perhaps ice and fire, but those moments still gave Len pause.

 

Mick was more important than any job. And Len had almost lost him that night. 

 

"Come on," said Mick giving Len a gentle squeeze mindful of both their bumps and bruises before pressing a firm kiss to the hinge of his jaw. "You're still doing that thinky thing. Just lay with me and sleep."

 

Len rolled over in Mick's arms and pressed him onto his back. He hovered above him for a second just staring into his eyes. Then, he leaned in to give him a long, slow kiss. Mick hummed into it, pressing his hands to the bare skin of Len's back.

 

"You're more important than any jewel," hazarded Len when he pulled back just an inch. He kept his eyes shut as he said it, not wanting to admit to how sentimental he was feeling.

 

Everything was still and silent for a beat. Len finally opened his eyes to see Mick smirking up at him.

 

"I love you, too," said Mick, voice low and gruff and eyes twinkling.

 

Len rolled his eyes and laid down with his head pillowed on Mick's chest and his arm wrapped around him. He still hadn't been able to bring himself to say those words to Mick. Those three, little words that inanely held so much weight, so much power in every relationship hadn’t once been uttered by Len --not since he was a little boy still soft with naivete and in possession of a living mother. 

 

But, important as those three, little words were, neither he nor Mick were worried that he couldn’t seem to say them. It had taken a long time for Len to be able to accept touches without flinching, and even longer before he could give them, but he’d gotten there. Mick was much more patient than his special brand of hotheadedness let on. Len would get there eventually and Mick was already aware that Len meant them. One day, Len would feel  _ safe _ enough to say those words to Mick… but only to Mick. 

 

It was always Mick.


End file.
